Seth and Booker
by joker32223
Summary: Booker brings a companion when he goes to "bring them the girl, and wipe away the debt." Seth is an assistant of the failed private investigator. M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Go check out The Power of the Mind, another story of mine. Seth's about 19 in this story, and him and Booker have been working together for a few months. PS: I'm going to shit on Columbia's version of Christianity. Just so you know.

Seth sat next to his employer, listening to the two people banter back and forth. "Are you going to just sit there?" the man rowing the boat asked.

"As opposed to what? Standing?" shot back his female companion.

"Not standing, rowing."

"Rowing? Hadn't planned on it."

"So you expect me to shoulder the burden?" The woman turned, handing Booker a box as the man talked. The two kept talking.

"No, but I do expect you to do all the rowing."

"And why is that?"

"It was your idea coming here."

"My idea?"

"I've made it very clear I don't believe in the exercise."

"The rowing?"

"No, I imagine that's wonderful exercise."

"Then what?"

"The entire thought experiment."

"Excuse me," Booker interrupted. "How much longer?"

"One goes into an experiment knowing one can fail," the man said, ignoring Booker. Booker rolled his eyes, and went to open the box.

"But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one HAS failed," the woman shot back. Booker's box opened, and Seth took in the contents. On the top of the box, there was a card, showing a scroll with an x and 1 next to it, a key, and a sword, both with x's and 2's next to them. Next to that was a postcard, from a place called Monument Island, with a giant metal angel on the front. In the box were two pistols, a picture of a girl, and a key. Booker took one of the guns, checking it for ammo before handing it to Seth. The young man pocketed the gun, and Booker took his own. Booker examined the photo, and Seth had to admit that the woman was quite attractive…Seth shook his head, focusing on the continuing banter.

"Can we get back to the rowing?"

"I suggest you do, else we'll never get there."

"No, I mean I would greatly appreciate it if you would assist."

"Perhaps you should ask them? I imagine they have a greater interest in getting there than I do."

"I suppose they do. But, there's no point in asking."

"And why is that?"

"Because they don't row."

"They don't ROW?"

"No, they DON'T row."

"Ah. I see what you mean."

"They're absolutely crazy," Seth whispered to his employer. Booker hushed him.

A giant lighthouse suddenly loomed out of the fog, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Seth jumped a little as he noticed it. The small rowboat pulled up next to the ragged dock. "We've arrived," said the woman. Booker climbed the ladder, and Seth scrambled up after him. They turned to find the boat slowly rowing away.

"Hey! Is anyone meeting us here?"

"I'd assume so. Seems like a horrible place to be stranded!" the woman shouted back.

"Did she just say stranded?" asked Seth.

"Let's just get inside," replied Booker.

"Oh I don't like this," he answered, tightening the leather jacket around him. He looked down, his clothes soaked from the rain. "But that's not a bad idea." They walked towards the lighthouse, coming to the door at the front. There was a sign on the front, saying 'DeWitt, bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt. This is your last chance.' "I guess they mean the girl from the photo?"

"What was your first clue?"

"Shut up." Booker hammered on the door.

"Hello? It's Booker DeWitt? I guess, you're expecting me?" Seth reached across and opened the door. "What if it was booby trapped?"

"Was it?"

"No."

"Then shut up, and move on." Booker glared at him before going in the lighthouse, and Seth followed him. Booker looked at a plaque on the wall.

'I will wash thee of thy sins' Booker chuckled. "Good luck with that, pal." Seth's eyes lingered on the man, before turning to the stairs.

"I'm going to check out upstairs," Seth shouted.

"Be careful," the older man replied. Seth climbed the steps, coming upon a residential area. There was a sink, a kitchen and a wardrobe. Seth rummaged through the cupboards, finding an apple, which he pocketed. He started to climb the second set of stairs, but stopped when he saw blood.

"Booker? You're going to want to see this," Seth shouted, drawing his pistol. He finished climbing the stairs, then lowered the gun when he took in his surroundings.

"What is-," Booker said, coming up behind him. He stopped when he saw the body in the chair. "Guess someone got here before us," he said, walking past the body. Seth stared at him incredulously before following him up the next stairs.

"Oh, joy. Back in the rain," said Seth. They were now on top of the lighthouse, and Booker was standing in front of a set of 3 bells. One had a scroll, one had a key, and one had a sword. "Booker, the ca-,"

"I know," he replied, drawing the card. He tapped the bells, ringing them in the order specified. The sky darkened red as Seth and Booker stared. "What the hell…?"

"I have no idea," Seth said, as the lighthouse darkened, then opened. A chair rose out of the center of the light room. "Guess they want you to sit in their fancy chair," he chuckled, then stared as Booker walked towards it. "You're not actually going to do it are you?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No, but-,"

"Then shut it." Seth glared at Booker as he got in the chair. Then clamps snapped shut on his wrists, and Seth rushed forward.

"I told you this was a bad-," Seth was interrupted as walls closed around them, then the entire unit spun, slamming him against the walls. "Owww…" he groaned as the rocket in the top of the lighthouse took off, pressing him against the bottom of the rocket. "OWWWWW!" he shouted, as he felt immense pressure on his back. Suddenly, the rocket stopped, and he rocketed up, and slammed his head on the floor on his way back down.

"Seth!" Booker shouted as they young man passed out.

(X)

Seth woke up to Booker shaking his shoulder. "Seth. Get up. We need to move."

"5 more minutes," he groaned. Booker rolled him over. "Ow…my everything hurts."

"I'm not surprised. That's a hell of a bump on your head. But get up." Seth sat up, and looked around. He was in what looked like a church.

"Booker, we're both atheists. Why are we in a church?"

"It's not a church."

"Than what is it?"

"Not a clue. The rocket got us up to a floating city."

"Seriously?" Seth was instantly on his feet. "Let's go!"

"Easy. This might get rough. If it does, stay close."

"Yeah, yeah, old man. I'm gonna go see this floating city of yours." Seth grinned, setting off down the hallway. He walked through the thin layer of water on the ground, passing the worshipers. Booker caught up behind him. "This water is nothing but a health hazard."

"It's supposed to symbolize a river."

"That's really stupid."

"I know." Seth started down the stairs, then slipped on the water, catching himself on the stair rail.

"See! Nothing but a health hazard!"

"Shut up," Booker said. They came across a huge room at the bottom of the stairs, lit with candles floating in the water.

"Who do you think they get to set all this up?" he asked.

"Let's just get to the town." Seth rolled his eyes, coming upon the congregation, where a crowd of worshipers surrounded a stereotypical radical preacher. He separated two of the members, shoving himself through, when he was recognized.

"Ah! Is it another from the Sodom below? Come, be cleansed, in the name of our Lord!" He turned to Booker, who had shoved himself through and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing for him to go first. The older man rolled his eyes and sighed, then stepped towards the preacher. The ancient cleric took his hand, bending Booker's over his knee.

"I cleanse thee, in the name of our prophet, in the name of our founders, in the name of our Lord!" The preacher dunked Booker in the water, holding under slightly longer than necessary. Seth's employer broke the water, gasping for air. "I don't know, brothers and sister, this one doesn't look clean to me!" The preacher shoved the still gasping Booker back under the water.

"Hey! Let him up!" Seth shouted. Booker's struggling form went slack, and Seth drew his gun. One of the worshipers behind him knocked the pistol from his hand, and it splashed into the water. He was shoved forward, and the preacher dunked him too. He tried to raise a hand, but the older man had tucked Seth's arms behind him.

'I really don't like this town…' Seth thought as he drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Authors Note: This is the longest chapter I've ever done for any of my stories. Enjoy.

Seth sputtered awake in a small pool. He spat some water out of his mouth, coughing as he did so. He looked around to see Booker was already on his face. "That crazy priest needs to learn the difference between baptizing a man and drowning one," the older man spat out. Booker turned to see Seth sitting up. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"Yeah." Seth looked around to see stone versions of three founding fathers, each of whom seemed to be handing him something. "So, what's these guy's problem?"

"I think they worship the founding fathers as some kind of prophets."

"So, it's like America as a religion?"

"I guess."

"Well, scratch amendment 2, because they took my gun."

"And I lost mine on the rocket."

"Perfect," replied Seth, standing up. The water rolled off his leather jacket easily, but his pants were soaked. "I might need new clothes soon."

"You have any money?" Seth looked around, and saw a man flip a coin into their pool.

"I will in a minute." Seth bent over, scooping coins out of the water. He'd collected about 50, when he stepped out of the water. "If 50 of these things doesn't buy pants, then screw it." No one paid them any mind, all of them simply praying aloud. As Seth and Booker left the small garden, they couldn't help but overhear some snippets of the devout worshiper's prayers. He found one very amusing.

"He who crossed the Delaware, on flaming sword and wings of angels, watch over me." Upon hearing this, Seth snorted, and struggled to contain a laugh.

"What?" Booker asked.

"Pretty sure Washington crossed the Delaware on a boat," he whispered. Booker shook his head, smiling slightly.

"We're not here to mock. We get the girl, we go home."

"Yeah, yeah. I still haven't seen this city float." Seth threw open the doors in front of them, then froze. "Holy. Shit."

"I told you."

"I thought you meant, floats on water!" Booker smiled, and followed the young man as he peered over the edge. "We're in the sky!"

"See what you miss when you're unconscious?"

"Shut up. Let's see what the sky people have in the pants department."

(X)

As it turned out, 50 silver eagles, as they were called, was NOT enough to get new pants. Seth stomped away, cursing the man at the counter, even though his pants were already dry. "Stupid cheating-,"

"Let's just find the girl." The two walked through the town, watching a floating parade go by.

"So it's not just the founders who were prophets. This Comstock is one too, apparently," said Seth.

"Apparently," replied Booker. The two passed a quartet, floating on a floating ship. They finished walking through the town, to find a telegram boy running at them.

"Mr. Dewitt?"

"Hmm?"

"Telegram for you, Mr. Dewitt," replied the child, giving a salute after handing off his small cargo. Seth chuckled as he watched the kid run off.

"Now you see why I wanted to work with you? It was this, or one of those messenger kids." Booker ignored him, engrossed in the telegram.

"Dewitt, STOP. Do not alert Comstock to your presence, STOP. Whatever you do, do not pick #77?" Seth peered over his shoulder.

"Who's Lutece?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, this job just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

(X)

The two reached the town fair, and Seth marveled at the Vigors on display. He played around in the tents, while Booker kept nagging him. "Seth, we need to go."

"I'm winning cash. This could be useful."

"You're playing. Don't be a kid."

"Fine." He put down the air rifle he was holding, collecting the small pile of Silver Eagles he'd won. "And what, exactly, is wrong with letting your inner child out every once in a while?"

"The fact that we're doing a job. I'll fire you."

"No, you won't. You wouldn't know what to do without me."

"Shut up." Seth grinned.

"So, where are we going now?"

"It seems like we have to pass through this raffle of theirs to get to Monument Island."

"And they'll probably have us participate in the raffle."

"Probably."

"Yay," said Seth, unenthusiastically.

"I know." They walked up to the entrance to the raffle.

"Sorry! The raffle is sold out! Better luck next time!" the rude robot attendee shouted.

"Well. That's a problem," said Seth. He glanced around looking for something to help. He saw a pretty girl, selling Possession Vigors. He strolled over, and the lady made her pitch.

"Hey, handsome. Ever been cheated by those things of metal? Ever lost a penny to a vending machine? Has a payphone ever refused to connect you with a beloved spouse?"

"No…" 'Dammit, Volparo. Use DeWitt's training.' "But, then again, I've never tried to call you before." She blushed, and he grinned. He grabbed the bottle she offered, and screwed off the cap. He chugged it down, a very metallic taste tingling on his tongue. Seth's vision blurred, as the woman in front of him glowed green, made a heart shape with her hand, and blew him a kiss. His vision cleared, and he shook his head vigorously. He reached in his jacket to pull out some Eagles, but the woman stopped him.

"That's not necessary."

"It's free?"

"For you, almost anything is…" she smiled, and he grinned and winked. He walked back to DeWitt, a wide grin on his face.

"Guess who's got us a way into the raffle?"

"You didn't."

"Oh, but I did. Now, how do I use these things?" He felt for any difference in his body, and sensed a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He reached for it, trying to channel that energy, as one would to move an arm, and suddenly, a green thing shot out of his arm. It hovered around the ticket-taker, and its attitude immediately changed.

"Why, hello assembly-man Buford! Welcome to the raffle! And your wife! Looking lovely, as usual!" Seth struggled to contain a laugh, as Booker grumbled. Apparently he didn't like being a wife.

"Well, that worked."

"Why do I have to be the wife?"

"Oh, quit your whining. We got in, didn't we?"

"I'm going to get me some of whatever you got."

"If we find some, help yourself." The two walked into the now open door, meeting two people. One was a man, who had a chalkboard hanging on his front. It had a few chalk tally marks in a column called Heads, and another column called Tails, that was completely blank. The next was a woman, holding a plate aloft. On the plate was a single coin.

"Heads?" asked the man.

"Or tails?" said the woman.

"C'mon, let us through."

"Heads-,"

"Or tails?" Booker sighed, grabbing the coin, and flipping it back onto the plate.

"Tails," he called in the air. The coin settled on the plate, and the woman spared a glance at it. She then turned to the man, making a mark in the heads column.

"Told you," the man said snarkily.

"Chin up. There's always next time." The pair walked to the side, with the other pair staring at them.

"Well, they're…eccentric," muttered Seth. The two walked past two guards, playing with what they called a skyhook. Booker eyed the skyhook, as if it might pounce in his direction at any second. "Will you calm down? No one wants to kill us. It's not like New York, where we have to avoid your collectors at every corner."

"Yeah, well, if all goes to plan, we'll never have to do that again." They kept walking, then Booker froze.

"What?" asked Seth. Booker raised a hand to a poster in front of them. It had a clawed, dark hand, with the letters AD on the back. The words above and below it said, 'You shall know the False Shepard by his mark!' Booker was now staring at his right hand. On the back, in scar tissue indicating a brand, were the letters AD. "Well. That makes thing more complicated. Why do they think you're the devil?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, maybe there's more to this prophet than there appears to be."

"Or whoever sent us here told Comstock about us."

"Why?"

"No idea." Seth rolled his eyes, then he began to hear singing.

"Well. Someone's having a party. Let's go crash." Seth grinned, then raced up the steps in front of them. He found a crowd of 50 or 60 people, all being led in song by a mustached man on stage. He walked into the crowd, when he nearly ran into a woman with a basket. "Sorry," he muttered. He heard Booker catch up behind him.

"No problem. Say, you don't have a number yet! Go ahead."

"Sorry. No sale," Booker said behind him.

"Silly. There's no charge for the raffle. You been living under a rock?" The woman rolled her eyes, and Seth took a ball. 34 was written on it in red paint. He gestured for Booker to take one, and Booker pulled 77 from the basket. His eyes widened.

"Did you just do the thing that the telegram told you specifically NOT to do?"

"Maybe."

"Wonderful. Well, at least maybe you won something." He watched as the man on stage, who he heard a crowd member call Fink, ended the singing.

"And now," he shouted, "The 1912 raffle has officially begun! Bring me the bowl! Is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Columbia?" Seth's eyes widened as he heard the obviously racist comment. He'd grown up with a sweet old black lady for a neighbor, and he couldn't imagine anyone being mean to her. His entire life he'd rejected the slightly racist ideas society tried to force on him. So, this threw him for a loop. "And the winner is…Number 77!"

"He's over here!" shouted a crowd member behind them.

"Number 77, come and claim your prize! First throw!" Fink shouted maliciously. He stepped aside, and the curtain parted behind him. 2 tied people, a white man and a black woman, were carried forward by machines as wedding music began to play. It was obvious they were in a relationship, the way the man begged for him to be hit, instead of the woman. It was also very obvious from the boos that this was unacceptable. Seth glanced at Booker, who gripped the baseball tightly. 'He can't' thought Seth, as Booker raised his hand. The arm went back, and then there was a shout.

"Wait!" Another arm looped around Booker's, pulling his hand back. "He's got the brand! The False Shepard!"

"The False Shepard!" came shouts from the crowd. Fink stepped in front of them, crouching on the stage.

"Where'd you get that brand? Don't you know that makes you the backstabbing, snake-in-the-grass False Shepard? And we ain't letting any False Shepard into our flock! Show 'em what we got planned, boys!" One of the man's skyhooks came dangerously close to Booker's face, and Seth was now struggling against a guard of his own. Booker tossed up the ball, and one guard slackened his grip. Booker took advantage, slamming the head into the running skyhook. Gore splattered as the man's head caved in. Seth winced, turned back to grab the man in front of him's arm, turning and slamming him into the ground. The man blacked out, and Seth grabbed his pistol. He tossed the gun to Booker, who had dealt with the other guard.

"Thanks."

"Guess things have gone to hell?"

"Yep."

"You know I've never killed anyone?"

"First time for everything."

"Really? That's all you have to say?"

"Yep."

"Wonderful help you are." Seth bent over, grabbing the man's baton. He charged the line of guards. He swung his bar at the first one's head. It was deflected, and he kicked the man's leg. It crumpled, and he slammed it into his head. He scooped up a pistol on the ground, lined up his next shot, and squeezed the trigger. The next policeman's head exploded as the round pounded into his skull. He sighted his next target, and squeezed. He settled. All had stopped. He'd just killed a man, then did it again, without a second thought. A sigh escaped him. He thought this would be the worst bit, realizing what he'd done. But in reality, he could only think of how they'd have done the same to him. He scooped some ammo from the pockets, reloading the gun. He turned to Booker who was eyeing him wearily.

"You alright?"

"Fine. Let's just find the girl." He cocked the pistol, then advanced, gun in one hand, baton in the other. He walked past a crate, ducking back when he saw the automaton. It had a VERY big gun attached to it. He launched the possession vigor again, and it glowed green. It started firing into the guards that had lined up to take on the pair.

"Ok, now I really need some of that stuff," Booker said behind him. Seth fumbled in the crate for a minute before tossing a green bottle to him. Booker caught it, yanked off the top, and chugged it down. He screwed his eyes shut, then widened them. "Well. That's…"

"I know." Seth launched forward, gun firing. His bullets slammed into their targets, and he turned to the robot. The vigor was already wearing off, and he ripped the bullet belt out of the bot. When the vigor's effects completely disappeared, the bot repeatedly clicked in his general direction. Seth grinned, and Booker trailed behind, mopping up the rest of the men. He dodged the fire of another bot, with Booker drawing its attention. He leapt up the steps, disconnecting the bullet belt with his baton. He ran around, and Booker joined him.

"Fireman's on his way!" shouted a policeman, who was promptly shot.

"Fireman? Nothings on fire," said Seth.

"I don't think it's that kind of fireman," Booker replied, and the pair started opening the door in front of them. In the next garden was the fireman. A man in a metal suit was screaming as he launched fire grenades at them. Booker dodged left, and Seth dived right.

"BURN IN THE NAME OF OUR PROPHET!" shouted the Fireman. Seth responded with a hail of bullets, shot after shot pummeling into the man's armor. One of them must have pierced it, because the man collapsed with a scream, and there was an explosion. Booker cautiously approached it, and scooped something up from the ground. It was a vigor. It showed a topless female demon, and had the words 'Devil's Kiss' written on the bottle.

"Well, that's not suspicious."

"I know. But you only live once," responded Booker, screwing off the top, and chugging the bottle. Then he screamed. His hands were alight, almost melting. Then the fire was gone, and he fell silent. "That hurt. A lot."

"I'll pass on that vigor."

"Your loss," responded Booker, launching a grenade at the bot ahead of them. They passed a row of fireworks, for the next door to burst open, and soldiers began pouring out. Seth fired with his gun, and Booker launched actual fire. They were soon wiped out, and they came across a pork restaurant. "Hey, they've got more Devil's Kiss back here. You sure you don't want some?"

"Oh, what the hell. Gimme." Booker threw the bottle, and Seth chugged it down. Booker was right. It did hurt. But it was worth it to be able to throw fire. Seth launched a ball over the edge of the city, watching it plummet. "Well, that's cool."

"Oh yeah. C'mon. Let's keep moving." Booker threw open the doors, and went to go behind the counter. Then he froze, because someone was already there. "Who are you two? Why are you following us?" Seth couldn't see, so he pushed past Booker, and saw the two people from before the raffle.

"We were already here," said the man.

"Why are you following us?" asked the woman.

"Whatever. What do you want?"

"We bring gifts," said the woman. On her plate was a vial of yellow liquid. On the man's plate was another Vigor bottle, with the words Highway to Hell, and a sword in a sheath. Booker chugged down the yellow liquid. "Astonishing," said the woman as a yellow tint formed around Booker, before fading away.

"What, that it worked?" asked the man.

"That it didn't kill him."

"Oh, wonderful," shouted Seth. The young man reached for his vigor. "So, what did you give him?"

"A magnetic repulsive shield," replied the woman, as Seth chugged down the bottle. Fissures opened up in his hands, but he gritted his teeth and rode out the pain.

"So, why does he get a bullet blocker and I get a sword?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know it was for bullets?"

"You mean it's not? I mean, we're getting shot at, and you give him something that repels metal." The woman turned to the man.

"Well, this one is certainly smarter than DeWitt." Seth grinned at Booker, who looked significantly pissed.

"So, again. Why does he get a shield, and I get a sword?"

"We tried-," started the woman.

"You died every time," finished the man.

"What does that even mean?" asked Seth, looping the sheath over his head. The sword settled on his back, and he shoved his right arm through the other loop to keep it steady. The sheath itself was jet-black, as were the straps. He drew the black handle from its sheath, revealing a beautiful sword. It was about 3' 4" long, with a Jet-black blade with a red streak down the middle of both sides of the blade. Seth whistled while he swung it from side to side. Its weight was perfect. He spun it quickly and the bigender pair backed up. "What? It's just a sword. If I wanted to hit you, you'd be hit."

"It's not JUST a sword. Its blade has been refined to a molecular point. It will cut through anything except that sheath, and certain metals," replied the woman. Seth raised his eyebrows, carefully replacing the sword.

"Well, thanks. Whoever you are."

"Oh, how rude of us. I am Robert," started the man.

"And I am Rosiland Lutece," finished the woman, both of them saying Lutece at the same time. Seth gave them a nod, turning to Booker.

"Well. We've got guns, we've got Vigors, and now we've got a sword. Let's go get the girl."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Authors Note: Switching to Seth's first person perspective, just because it's easier for me to write.

We walked out the rear of the restaurant as I read the back of the bottle of the vigor. 'Use to open a fissure in the ground for your enemy's to fall through. Charge up to create a volcano that sucks in your foes. Awesome!' I looked up to find a balcony. It was exposed to the other rooftops, and Booker shot off the ground, heading for a hook planted on the side of one of the buildings. "Whoa! Damn hook must be magnetized!"

"Well what do you suggest I do?" I asked. "I don't have a hook!"

"Go find one! One of those guards outside must have one! I'll wait!" I sighed, spinning around and walked back through the restaurant. The Lutecces were still standing there, a bemused look on their faces. I burst through the door, and took a skyhook from one of the dead guard's belts. It was a simple thing, once you got your hand in it. There was a button, and the harder you pressed it, the faster the hook spun. Another button that activated the magnet, as proved by the way his coins moved in my jacket when he activated it. A small switch to control spin direction. Easy enough. I walked back through as I clipped the skyhook to my belt. I was about to walk past the Lutecces again, when Rosalind stopped me.

"I have to tell you something, and you must not tell Dewitt."

"Ok," I responded warily.

"When you find the girl, expect some changes."

I raised an eyebrow. "What? Am I going to like her?"

"If you do, that's none of my concern. In fact, it might aid you. Just expect something to change."

"What? Just a cryptic message."

"Yes. Expect more of those, as well."

"Wonderful," I said, moving past the pair once again. I walked back into the sunlight, just to see Booker had moved over a hook. I unhooked my Skyhook, and pointed it at the freight hook. I pressed the button, and shot off the ground. I spun it slightly, and the hook clipped into the other hook. I hovered, suspended by my arm. "So! Let's keep moving." He nodded, spinning the hook hard and launching up. He pointed the hook at the next anchor point, and connected. We repeated the process until we came up on a guy on a rooftop. 'Time to test my sword,' I thought, leaping past Booker. I clipped my Skyhook onto my belt, and drew my sword at the same time. He seemed to hear me as I swung the sword down. The blade cut through him smoothly, and the blood didn't start flowing until after his two halves split apart. It seeped into the floorboards as I scooped up his machine gun. Booker landed behind me, and I handed it to him.

"What? You don't want it?" he asked.

"I'll dual-wield for now," I said, readying my blade with my right hand, and drawing my pistol with my left. I walked forward, slicing the leg off the guy who charged at me, then finishing him off with a bullet. Booker fired at the crowd of soldiers over my shoulder as I heard the tell-tale sounds of an automaton. I ducked behind a crate as it started firing. I waited for it to reload before shooting off my possession vigor. I ran past as it fired around a corner, grabbing some salts and gulping them down quickly. I readied my new vigor. I let it charge up before letting it loose on an airship. The ship buckled and split as a hill rose up from the hull, and sucking the nearby automaton in. It clamped shut, and you could hear the metal buckle as I sliced through a guard's baton, then spun and fired into his face. I leapt onto a rooftop, and sliced through a glass pane. The glass sheared away like paper, not actually shattering until it hit the floor below. I jumped in, and readied my guard against nothing.

I was in a very posh bedroom, and exited via a staircase. I went into a side room, which was another bedroom. There was a chest, and I sliced it off at the hinges. Inside was a salt bottle, and a bottle that was almost constantly changing color, shifting from red to yellow, then blue and back to red. Booker walked in behind me. "What's that?" he asked.

"An infusion," came Rosalind's voice from behind us. We spun around, and the pair was there again. "A bottle that exists as three separate bottles at once."

"Grab it when the one you want appears, and it will enhance a part of your health. Red, you'll be able to take more abuse from the residents. Blue, you'll be able to hold more salts, and yellow will increase the older gentleman's shield."

"How do you keep doing that?" I asked as Booker took the bottle when it turned yellow.

"If we were to explain it, you really wouldn't understand, would you?" Rosalind asked.

"Probably not," I conceded.

"I'll scout ahead, you keep searching this place," Booker muttered as he pushed past the pair. I placed my sword in its sheath to go through the dresser in the room, finishing only to notice they were still standing there.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked, drawing my sword again.

"Probably not," Rosalind shot back.

"So are you going to tell me more about those changes you mentioned?"

"Body. Mind. Practically everything."

"Well. That's comforting. Can you tell me why?"

"Not yet. In time." I shook my head as I left the room, and went downstairs. At the base of the stairs, there was a body, his head caved in. Booker was rummaging in a nearby cabinet.

"Booker?"

"He attacked me." I rolled my eyes before leaving the room via the balcony. I leapt up onto a freight hook, and from there to a plaza. I opened the door to the building beside me as Booker landed behind me. The door opened into a kitchen, with a poster of a kneeling black man on the wall. I could hear muffled arguing, and when I left the kitchen, I could see it. A man and a woman were arguing about whether violence was the answer to some problem. I mainly ignored them as Booker conversed with them. I pushed by, scooping up some salts from the nearby table. I opened the door to the outside, getting the drop on a passing guard.

I crept up behind him, effortlessly driving the sword through his neck, then shoving his body into a nearby gazebo. I shot to the side, slicing through the armor of a fireman, and ducking behind a ledge before he detonated. I heard gunshots from the other side of the courtyard, indicating Booker had joined the fight. I heard shots pound into my cover, and waited for the lull before leaping over the ledge. I fired some bullets at one of the remaining guards, and he dived behind cover. Booker shot him as he dodged fire from one of the automatons, and I fired a possession vigor in its direction. All gunfire ceased as I tore the ammo belt from the bot. Booker joined me as I walked up to a creepy looking mansion.

"Could you imagine how bad it would be to live here?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well here, all you can see is the side of that building and the creepy statue out front. Everyone else's view is all '_magic and rainbows_.'" Booker shook his head at my attempt at a joke and pushed open the front door. Ravens flew off a plate of food as we walked in, weapons drawn. Inside…was a glorified statue of John Wilkes Booth, holding a pistol. "So these people think the guy who killed Lincoln is a hero?" I asked incredulously. Apparently, I shouldn't have talked so loud. There was a bar in the left side room, and a few people poured out of it. I sliced and diced while Booker looted, slicing through bones and flesh with ease. I finished the fight as Booker started up some stairs, and with a flick of the wrist, my sword was clean of blood.

"Hey Seth," came Booker's voice.

"What?"

"Can I borrow you for a moment?" Puzzled, I climbed up the stairs and joined him at a balcony. Below us, what looked like a KKK meeting was going on, with people clothed in pointed robes. But they were blue, instead of white. "Use that fissure vigor down there," he whispered, pointing to the center of the group. I let the salts build up inside of me, then let them go. The ground buckled and shook as it opened up, and the members tried to run as some unseen force dragged them into the pit. Except for the one on the stage, who (Don't ask me how) dissolved into crows, and escaped out a side door. I jumped over the railing and onto the stage. I saw an infusion on the table, and grabbed it when it turned blue. Booker stepped up the stairs and opened the side door. A large room with a circular table appeared, and Booker marched straight through. I discovered a secret passage on the right side as he scooped some stuff off the table. He jogged up the stairs, and opened the door. Screaming leaked in, the visual equivalent blocked by Booker's unmoving body. It stopped, and he shoved the door open the rest of the way.

A mangled corpse, in the process of being picked clean by birds, came into view. I shuddered, then sliced when the raven man materialized again. He backed up, his arm hanging by a thread of muscle, before disappearing again. Booker set a Devil's Kiss trap where the flock of crows headed, and it exploded when the man appeared. He died with a scream, and a blue vigor fell to the floor. "You can have that one," I said. "I want nothing to do with those creepy birds." I glanced back at the mangled corpse. "Absolutely nothing." He nodded understandingly, and scooped up the bottle. He gulped down the contents, and keeled over. A crow, piece of flesh clasped in its beak, landed on his left hand, then flew off as he recovered.

"That was a trip," he said clasping his gun tightly. Guards poured in, and we set to work. Booker launched a group of crows at the group on the left, and I charged their distracted forms. Booker unleashed his machine gun on the group on the right as I ducked a flailing baton. I sliced through the guy, then shot to the other one, a diagonal slash sprouting from his right shoulder to left hip. We charged up the next set of stairs, and threw open the doors we found. We heard the city's PA start as we entered the outside world again.

"The False Shepard, this anarchist, is either a mulatto dwarf or a French man with a missing left eye, no more than four feet and nine inches. His companion, a demon sent straight from Satan himself to aid the False Shepard, wields a stone tablet and sports a beard longer than our Dear Father's." I chuckled as I rubbed my clean shaven chin, and glanced at Booker. He was outright grinning at their description of us.

"I bet we can get to Monument Island from that station," said Booker, pointing to the airship dock. It had a large neon sign that said Monument Island on it. 'Gee, Booker. How'd you figure that out?'

"Let's go, then," I said, sheathing my sword and replacing my skyhook. I leapt to the first hook, then quickly moved to the next one. I landed on a guard, slicing off his head with my sword as I landed, and used his body to cushion the fall. Booker leapt on the other guard on the platform, channeling his momentum into the Skyhook and launching him off the structure. I flicked the blood off my blade before we entered the building.

(X)

Inside the ticket station, there was a myriad of guards, which we quickly dispatched. We walked out the back, and there was a gondola with a skyline. The bot on the gondola told us off. "We're sorry to say that Monument Island is off-limits. You've got to go! Workers should proceed through means of the skyline."

"Skyline?" I asked.

"That was those things those coppers rode in on."

"Guess we just attach to it, and spin the hook?"

"Guess we'll find out." He pointed his hook at the line, and activated the magnet. He shot up and hooked to it, then activated the spinner. He shot forward, and I jumped up after him. We rode the skyline up to a building, and Booker jumped off the line and hit the guard, launching him into the wall and killing him. I passed his corpse, slicing the guard who rushed me and grabbing the infusion behind him when it went blue, per Booker's instructions. I tossed it to him as he straightened his ruffled…neckerchief? He gulped it down as I leapt back onto the line, riding it up and slicing the man who came into view. I jumped down, dispelling the crates riding the line as well as Booker shot past me. I jumped up, and we came across an airship. I jumped on one of the guys leaping off of it, plunging my sword into his back. Jumping back on the line, we found another pavilion. Suddenly, a voice came over the intercom.

"Stand down! Stand down." All the soldiers on the pavilion knelled, setting aside their weapons, and began praying. Warily, Booker and I practically waded through the group to the doors. Opening them revealed a platform with a lever, and an airship, showing a video feed of Comstock. "I know why you've come, False Shephard." Booker ignored the voice, pulling the lever as I stepped onto the platform. The platform rose as Comstock kept talking. "I see every sin that blackens your soul. Wounded Knee. The Pinkertons. The drinking and the gambling. And of course, Anna. Child, you are harder to read, but it is evident you carry great weight on your shoulders. Keep in mind, the next time you kill for this man, that it isn't too late to be forgiven by the Lord. And now, to repay a debt, you've both come for my Lamb. But not all debts can be repaid, Booker."

"You don't know me, pal!" shouted Booker.

"Prophecy is my business, Mr. DeWitt, as blood is yours. Do you know why these men will die for me?"

"Because they're batshit crazy?" I asked.

"No. It is because I have seen their future in the glory, and hence they are content. What brought you to Columbia, Booker? 'Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt?' And child, what brought you to this man? A simple employment opportunity?" A headache rocked my mind as I felt my nose start to leak blood. I wiped it off on my hand, and it quickly dried. I made a mental note to wash it off, as I saw Booker's nose begin to bleed as well. "This will end in blood. But, doesn't it always, with you, Booker? It always ends in blood. You've come to lead my lamb astray, but thy crook is bent, and thy path is twisted." We stepped off the platform as the airship on the outside began to move. "Go back to the Sodom from which you came!" He shouted as missiles pummeled into the building. With a shout of "Go back!" the hallway in front of us exploded, making a new and rather large window to the outside. A zeppelin was there, and it was the one firing the rockets. I jumped out, landing on the airship and I heard Booker land beside me as I sliced through a turret. A man charged at me from the doorway, but a stab through his throat ended that.

We raced inside, Booker shooting one guard as I shot the other. The ship went quiet as the last man fell, and Booker raced into the cockpit. I followed him, sheathing my sword. "Gotta get the controls to take us to Monument Island," Booker shouted, pulling at levers.

"You know how to fly one of these?" I asked, noting a woman praying to a shrine of Comstock in the corner.

"I got a general notion."

"Wonderful. Easy, lady. We're not gonna hurt you," I said to the woman, who ignored me and kept praying. Suddenly, a horn blasted.

"The Lord forgives everything," came Comstock's voice. He'd floated up in front of us on an airship. "But I'm just a prophet…so I don't have to. Amen."

"Amen," echoed the voice behind us. We turned to see the woman with a Molotov. I tried to stop her, but she dropped it, and the whole cockpit erupted into flames. I dashed out first, and Booker shoved me back out the door we came in as a collapsing beam blocked it.

"Get to Monument Island!" he shouted from the other side. "I'll meet you there!"

"You better make it, old man!"

"…You too, kid." I saw him race to the other end of the airship as I unhooked my Skyhook and jumped off, hooking onto the Skyline.

"That was too close," I muttered, hopping off alone at the nearest possible point. I turned back to see the zeppelin going down in flames. "You better have gotten off that, Booker." I turned, walking off the dock and into, according to the signs, Monument Island.


End file.
